


But I'm Not Sick

by writerstrash



Series: Mr. Stark & His Kid [4]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Irondad, Other, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, spiderson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-11
Updated: 2019-07-11
Packaged: 2020-06-03 21:35:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19472668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writerstrash/pseuds/writerstrash
Summary: Sick!Peter Trope - Tony gets stuck with a cold-ridden teenager who insists he's fine.





	But I'm Not Sick

Tony normally enjoyed driving, especially through the city. FRIDAY always calculated the quickest routes with less traffic and he could drive as fast as he liked. It was a completely different of enjoyment in comparison to flying in a suit. Especially with his collection of sports cars. But today he didn't drive fast. He didn't take the corners too sharp or push his foot down to the floor when he had a clear path ahead of him. All because of the sick teenager that was leaning up against the passenger window, arms wrapped around his stomach, eyes squeezed shut.

"Slow down," Peter mumbled. 

"Kid, if I go any slower we'll basically be a parked car," Tony explained. "We're almost there."

"Just take me home," 

"Your aunt's doing a double tonight," he explained. "And I am _not_ facing the wrath of that woman if she found out I left you home alone like this,"

"Like what?" Peter asked, slightly annoyed. "Sick? Because I'm not."

"Right," Tony nodded. "You're not sick?"

"No,"

"Why'd school send you home?" 

"Overreaction," he shrugged.

"And why'd you call me?"

"I thought you would help me out of it," 

"You thought I'd use voice tech to pretend to be your aunt so you could, what? Walk home, was it?" 

"They needed verbal permission," Peter sighed. "I don't know why you didn't just go along with it."

"Oh 'cause you sounded real healthy on the phone. You can't even sit up straight and you thought I would let you just walk home?"

Peter pushed himself up on the seat, sliding his head from the window back to the headrest. Brat. Trying to prove he was as healthy as ever. So Tony played along with that. Rounding a corner, he pushed his foot down, feeling the car's power. He had a smirk on his lips as he watched Peter claw at the seat.

"Still good, Pete? You're not sick, are you?"

"No," he answered, too quickly. "B-but you could get a ticket,"

"Oh, yeah I could," Tony sighed sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "Is that why you want me to slow down? Don't want to get a ticket, huh?"

"Mmhmm," Peter whined, moving to his original position against the window. "They're expensive."

"Well thanks for considering my finances, Pete."

* * *

Tony followed behind Peter as they wandered out of the elevator into Tony's apartment. The tower elevator was express, and Tony could see now that Peter really wasn't doing well with moving quickly today. He had been wincing as the elevator climbed and now he was stumbling out as if he had been at a bar all day.

"Hey, watch it," Tony caught the boy, arm wrapping around his shoulders before he tripped over nothing. "Geez, you're burning,"

"M'okay," Peter whined.

Yeah, he sure looked okay. Sweat dripping down his face, soaking his shirt, dark circles forming around his eyes and a new shade of pale taking over his skin. 

"Pepper's got some cold medicine somewhere around here," he suggested.

"Won't work," Peter shook his head. "None of them do."

Oh, right. Super spider metabolism.

"And I haven't got the cold," the teen argued. "M'not sick. So I don' need medicine."

"Give up the act, Pete. You're sick. Own it and we'll get through this, okay?"

Peter leaned up against Tony as they put his bag down by the couch, feeling his eyes droop closed. He wanted to stay right there and go to sleep against Tony's chest. He felt so comfortable and safe, and he really didn't care right now how it made him look. Whiny. Needy. Clingy. He didn't care.

"Alright, down you go," Tony whispered, leaning forward to help Peter lay back against the couch. 

The boy clung to his shirt, pulling the man with him, but Tony did his best to gently pry the fingers away and settle the teen into the pillows. He looked miserable. His eyes were barely open, his chest sounded like a rattle, and he still felt like he was on fire.

"I'm gonna get you some water, okay?"

"No," Peter mumbled. "Just...just need a minute,"

"You need more than a minute, Pete," Tony sighed. "I'll be right back. Once you drink, you can sleep."

"Cold," he whined.

"You're cold? Peter, you're radiating more heat than an actual fire," Tony shook his head. "Can you at least admit it now, that you're sick?"

"A-always cold," he shook his head. 

"Always cold, huh? Are you always this sweaty and pale, too?" 

"I d-don't tan well," Peter mumbled. 

Tony rolled his eyes, removing himself from Peter's side. He felt a pang of guilt when he saw Peter's hurt expression as he moved, but he convinced himself this was best for the kid. He was going to go into dehydration. Tony needed to be firmer in order for Peter to get better or, at least, not get any worse. 

Peter was groaning in discomfort when Tony returned, a glass of water in his hand. He looked like he was sitting in the middle of a stuffy room during a heatwave, but he just kept clawing at the throw blanket for more heat. It was barely long enough to cover his lanky body.

"Drink this," Tony instructed. "The whole thing,"

Peter whined before sitting up to grab the glass, pulling it to his lips to take a large gulp, ignoring the nausea. 

"Whoa, whoa, not all at _once_ ," Tony sighed. "I don't need you throwing up on me,"

"I really...I can't," Peter sobbed, taking a sip and holding it in his mouth for a moment before swallowing. 

Tony reached down to put a hand on his shoulder, rubbing it softly. 

"I know you feel like shit. Just take a few more sips, okay? Slowly. Small ones. Just get some fluids into you," Tony comforted. "What's gonna make you feel better?"

Peter had tears growing in his eyes and Tony began to panic. He hated seeing Peter cry. It was one of his biggest weaknesses. He just wanted Peter to be okay. To be happy and healthy and back to his normal overly-chatty self. 

"Everything feels bad," the boy admit.

"What feels the worst?"

Peter sniffled, lifting a hand to place against his chest.

"Can't...feels like I can't breathe,"

Tony's heart ached.

"Alright, it's shower time," he decided. "You can use mine, okay? It's got one of those oil diffusers-"

"No, no I don' have to use yours Mr. Stark-"

"So even when you're sick, you're still gonna argue with me?"

Peter sniffled again and Tony could hear just how congested the boy was. 

"Not s'posed to be sick," he grumbled. 

"Ah, so you're admitting it now?" Tony smirked, wrapping Peter's arm around his neck to keep him upright as they began to walk to Tony's room.

He was ridiculously warm and Tony was beginning to consider calling Bruce for some expertise. But this was just a cold. People got the cold all the time. Tony didn't need to overreact. 

"I'll get Bruce to stop by later, okay?" he sighed. "I think you need some sleep first. You'll feel a lot better after some rest, kid."

"I feel all gross," he whined.

"I know," Tony turned them, opening his door. "The shower's gonna help, buddy. I'll get it ready for you and then you go on in,"

Peter nodded as Tony helped him sit down on the edge of the bath. His bathroom was huge, and the shower might as well have been classified as another room entirely. It had everything imagined for a luxury bathroom, and Peter couldn't believe this was where he was about to shower. This was where he was going to cough and blow his nose and try his best not to pass out in. It didn't make sense.

"Alright, Friday's got some peppermint oil going on, should help clear you out when you get in there. I'll meet you back out in the living room, okay? You can drink a little more, try to eat something, and sleep the rest of the day off. Sound good?"

Peter nodded, a small and thankful grin on his lips.

"Thanks Mr. Stark,"

Tony busied himself with preparing said food while Peter showered. He had an assortment of fruit, crackers and nuts ready to go. Anything small and easy to swallow, really. He had messaged May to let her know what was going on, assuring her that Peter was fine and was resting up. She wouldn't be finishing work until later that night, and Tony insisted that it was fine for Peter to stay the night. Pepper was out of town for two nights for Stark Industries conferences, and Tony was surprised to find himself missing company on his floor from the moment she left.

But now Peter was here. He might have been sick and sleepy, but Tony found himself genuinely wanting to comfort the boy. He wanted to wrap him in blankets and make sure he was fed and cared for. It was a feeling Tony never really had before, but seemed to enjoy. He just wanted the best for Peter in every aspect. 

"Friday, how's Pete? It's been like half an hour," Tony asked.

"Peter is currently asleep," 

Tony immediately stopped cutting the lemon he was preparing for a glass of water, dropping the knife against the counter and hurrying to his room. Had Peter fallen asleep in the bathroom? Against the cold tiles? In the shower itself? 

But his worry didn't last long. When he made it to his room, he found a very much asleep Peter on his bed, dressed in pants far too big and one of Tony's old sweatshirts. It brought a smile to Tony's lips, his heart swelling with adoration for this snotty, sweaty teenage boy. He noticed Peter's mouth closed and realised that the shower had done it's job in clearing out his congestion, allowing him to breathe through his nose and rest easily. 

But he was still shivering. Tony gently slid his arms beneath the boy and lifted him further up on the bed. He could have moved him to the couch, but he looked far too peaceful in here to think about that. Peter began to groan as Tony pulled back the blankets, shuffling Peter down into the bed.

"Easy, kid,"

"Mr. Stark?" he asked, groggy. 

"That's me,"

"Ughhhh," 

"Gee, thanks. Nice to see you too," Tony laughed. "You're out of it, aren't you?"

"S'time?"

"Almost three,"

"Gotta go home," Peter whined again, his voice tired and barely audible.

"May's at work. She's knows you're here, it's okay. Go to sleep, Pete."

Tony wasn't even sure if Peter was awake long enough to hear him, his soft snores soon taking over his tiny mumbles. It was hard not to melt at the sight of the sleeping teen. He was a good kid. The best kid Tony knew. Better than Tony had ever been, he sure of it. Peter was better than Tony in every way possible. 

Once he was sure Peter was okay, tucked beneath the blankets and a glass of water on the bedside table, Tony began to extract himself from Peter's arm which had snaked it's way around Tony's. 

"Mmm," Peter groaned, feeling Tony tug at his own arm.

"Pete, it's okay," Tony soothed. "Just sleep, alright? I'll be around."

"C'n you s'ay?" Peter slurred.

_Can you stay?_

Tony would give up the whole world hearing Peter ask that of him. 

"I can stay," Tony smiled. "What do you need, buddy?"

"C'n you jus..." Peter whined, reaching out lazily to pull Tony's hand up to his cheek.

His skin felt so hot beneath Tony's palm, but he kept it there as Peter's hand fell back down limply. Tony was confused for a moment before he started moving his hand against Peter's cheek, just running his thumb up and down slowly. Peter let out a soft sigh, lips parting once again as he breathed out heavily.

"Like that?" Tony asked.

Peter said nothing, dead to the world. Tony continued to stroke his cheek, smiling down at the boy. Maybe Peter wasn't his son, maybe Tony wasn't a father, but if this was a close as he would ever get, he would be more than okay with it. If Peter was as close to a son as he would ever get, Tony was the luckiest man alive. Snot and all. 


End file.
